


Historical Thaurens

by Hamiltalian



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-05-24 12:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14954892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hamiltalian/pseuds/Hamiltalian
Summary: “I’m dying.”“I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m dying.”   
> “I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

A mere bullet wound was not enough to kill a man like John Laurens, though few would know the tale. There were problems that he had to fix and he concluded that the only solution was to fake his death.

To begin with, he was to be put to death the second that the war ended by his father on multiple counts of sodomy, each of them with the same man, Alexander Hamilton. That man was the only one who truly loved Laurens.. But, for his sake and his own, he couldn’t see him anymore. He couldn’t so much as write him again, as much as he yearned to after reading the last letter that his lover had sent him. He drafted a letter, though he could never bear to send it, keeping it close at all times as he did with the rest.

[My dear Alexander

It is with deepest regret that I inform you that you will not be seeing me again. I know that you believe me to be dead and as I read your last letter, I am to be dying, but I assure you that I am not. Instead, I must flee forever. I cannot bear the thought of losing you. My lover, but I have little other choice. My father has discovered our secret and has requested that I be sentenced to death, a sentence that is to go into effect as soon as the war is over. I pray that I will be forgotten by all else but you and that we may meet once again in the distant, but for now, I must bid you farewell.

My heart lies forever in your palms,

John Laurens]

But he could never send it. He could never risk it.

John knew that the war had ended. He’d received word soon before the final battle. So, he had a soldier write a report of it and stopped it before it could actually happen. One casualty was on the report. A fatality.

And, just like that, John Laurens was dead.

His soldiers, though disagreeing with his actions, knew what it was like to be oppressed and helped him escape, giving him enough food and water to last for a week as well as some civilian clothing, seeing as all of his own were far too extravagant, thanks to his father and his lineage. He took his own horse and left, getting as far away as he could with what he had. He was lucky. It was a warm summer when he’d faked his death, much easier to bear than the harsh winters of the war. It was only a few days before John made his way out of the woods and into a large field. He frowned deeply as he looked around, immediately recognizing the environment he was in- a cotton plantation. He sighed and rode his horse out of the lands, almost making it past them completely when someone cut off his path with their own, larger steed.

“My apologies, sir. I’m afraid that I’ve lost my way.”

“What is your name?”

John hesitated to respond. After all, his death would’ve been reported by now and John had no idea where he was.

“Fine then.” The man snatched the reins from John’s hands and led his horse to the stables. John, being a lover of animals, refused to leave his loyal steed’s side. “If you won’t tell me your name, I will report you for thievery and make your pathetic excuse of a horse into dinner for my slaves.”

John’s head snapped up, a fiery glare in his eyes. “I have not done anything of the sort! And I refuse to let Elliot die at your pathetic hands,” he spat venomously.

The other man raised an eyebrow at the comment. “Pathetic?  Do you know who I am, boy? Thomas Jefferson, soon to be ambassador of this country to France. Do you understand that much?” He tutted and got off of his horse, yanking John from his own and snatching his satchel away. “And to what pathetic family do you bel-” He spotted the name on the letters in his bag. “A Laurens… According to this, you are John Laurens.”

John snatched his bag away. “You have no right to seize my property!”

“Impossible. Have you snatched this purse off of a dead man’s corpse? John Laurens is dead.”

He held his bag to his chest and looked down. There was no way out of it now. If he denied his own name any longer, he’d certainly be caught after being arrested. “I am John Laurens. Son of Henry and Eleanor Laurens. Husband to Martha Laurens Manning and father to Frances Laurens.”

“Impossible.. Your family believes you to be dead. What business do you have in Virginia when your death is being mourned elsewhere?”

“I was to be put to death. The only way for me to save my life was to fake it’s end.”

“Impressive…”

John bowed down to the other man, Thomas Jefferson, as he remembered from General Washington. “Please, sir. There must be a way for you to spare me, to keep my life a secret. I would be forever in your debt…”

Thomas tapped his chin in thought before a smirk grew across his face. “Very well. You and your horse will be cared for. I believe I can find some way to use you…” He put both horses into stables and took John inside, up to his bedroom. There were people everywhere, all there for the same reason, none of them daring to stare as the two men made their way to the master bedroom. “If I remember correctly, there are few crimes punishable by death in this nation. Treason, which would’ve ruined your family, murder, which you don’t seem to be capable of doing, and, by a family’s request, sodomy. So, I have little doubts in declaring that you, John Laurens, are a sodomite.”

John looked down at the ground, embarrassed. “Just because a love can’t procreate doesn’t mean it’s inherently wrong. My lover and I had a better love than I know many others to have and I was to be put to death for it.” He paused and looked up. “Do you have similar intentions?”

“Quite the opposite. You see, in France, there is no punishment for such a thing. As such, I had my own male lover on my visitations there. It simply isn’t the same with the slaves. They lack the beauty that you and I do. So, I propose that you be his replacement.” Thomas took a step closer.

John took a step away. The way he spoke of the people that he forced into servitude, as if they weren’t beautiful only because they were different or as if any beauty they had hadn’t been stripped because of the hell he put them through, was disgusting. “And if I were to refuse?”

Thomas crossed his arms. “Need I remind you the risk that I’m taking by simply harboring you? Do not make it more difficult for me.”

John thought for a second and sighed. He was awful, but he was John’s only hope for survival. “I accept.”

_(You guys know the drill. Sex scene is italicized and ends above a line.)_

* * *

 

_“Good. I will not hurt you if you don’t fight.” He stepped forward and pulled off John’s coat and slipped off his vest, then took his time unbuttoning his shirt, each one revealing more and more of his freckled skin, marked with cuts and bruises from the war._

_John was proud of his marked skin until it came to such intimate activities and, as such, he moved to hide his chest with his arms, Thomas stopping him and pulling the shirt from his shoulders._

_“Do not be ashamed. These marks do nothing but highlight your beauty, showing that nothing can damage perfection.”_

_John felt his face flush. Not even Alexander had said that before. It was always the marks don’t ruin beauty, not they highlight true beauty._

_Thomas sat the smaller man down on the bed and continued undressing him, leaving him in his breeches and stockings before moving onto his own clothing._

_John’s face flushed even more as he did, watching Thomas’ perfect complexion appear little by little until he too was in his breeches. He retrieved a bottle of oil from his desk in the office across the bed and urged John to move towards him. He did exactly that and moved as Thomas asked, laying on his back as his breeches and stockings were removed. His member sprung to life as soon as it was free from its confines, making Thomas chuckle deeply._

_“What happened to your hesitations, my boy? They seem to be gone.” He lowered himself to John’s crotch and placed a small kiss to his throbbing erection, eliciting a soft moan from the other. “You respond well. I take it that it’s been long since your lover last touch you, too long for your liking.”_

_John couldn’t deny that he missed Alexander’s touch, but he had to forget about him, at least for now. The last thing he wanted to do was moan out his name in the middle of his rendezvous with Thomas._

_Fortunately, a few hours proved it to be no worry. As amazing as Thomas was in that area, John couldn’t think about anyone else. And he almost resented himself for it._

* * *

One session of intimacy and he was already forgetting how amazing Alexander’s touch had been.

But… How could anyone blame him?

After all, Thomas was more romantic, better when it came to bedroom activities, and, overall, a better lover than Alexander was. John’s feelings grew faster than he could realize and really hit him two years later.

“I’m going away for a bit.”

John’s heart dropped. It was so sudden and so blunt. “Going away?..”

Thomas simply nodded, seemingly unaware of any effect it would’ve had on John. “Yes. I’ve been chosen to be ambassador to France and I must stay there for a few years.”

“M… May I join you?..”

He looked up at the smaller man, an eyebrow raised. “My boy.. As much as I would love that, it is highly likely that your face is still well known from the war. You understand that we can’t take such a risk, don’t you? I can’t stand the mere thought of losing you.”

John nodded slowly and looked back down. “My apologies…”

It was only a week later that Thomas left for France, though not before showing John the greatest night of his life. He hadn’t even been awake when it happened. Thomas was no good at goodbyes. John frowned deeply and sighed, staying in bed. He wished he could go with Thomas…

If he was there, he would’ve seen that Thomas missed him just as much.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please don’t hurt me like this.”  
> “Are you jealous?”  
> “Mine.”

The year was 1789. It had been seven years since John Laurens faked his death and seven years since he began his affair with Thomas Jefferson. It had also been five years since John last saw his lover since he was across the world in France, acting as the ambassador from their new nation. Naturally, when he heard that Thomas would be coming back, John spent the day waiting in their bedroom, wearing nothing but his undershirt, breeches, and stockings. He missed Thomas’s company, of course, but he also longed for his touch. Nobody touched him like he did. The second he heard Thomas’s footsteps climbing the stairs, he’d kindly requested that nobody else bothered him that day, he perked up and unbuttoned his shirt part way, leaving the satisfaction of finishing the job to his lover.

“My, my. It seems as though you’ve really missed me, my boy.” Thomas grinned as he walked into the room, eating up the image of his lover waiting for him in his underclothes. “I have missed you as well.”

John tutted. “As if you know how much I’ve missed you. You’ve had your French lover to play with and you’ve left me all alone.”

Thomas shook his head and kneeled on the bed so he was sitting in front of John, gently caressing his cheek. “I may have had him, but he is not you. He isn’t as sweet as my perfect little boy.”

John practically purred at the affection, leaning into his touch. Five years was far too long.

“Has anyone touched you since my depart?”

John immediately shook his head. “Nobody. Nobody could ever touch me as well as you have.. I’ve saved myself for you obediently.”

“Good boy. Let me remind you of what you missed.”

Within mere minutes, both men were undressed and their limbs were once again linked together as Thomas pushed himself into John’s longing entrance, biting into his neck as he enjoyed every inch of his flesh.

“You are mine. Do you understand? Mine.”

John nodded, hardly able to speak. Of course, he had kept himself well stretched enough to take Thomas the second that they were reunited, but the pleasure of his own fingers didn’t compare in the slightest to what Thomas made him feel. “I am yours forever.”

“Good boy.”

John was embarrassed by how quickly he had finished, but Thomas didn’t mind. He wasn’t close to being done with him. By the end of the night, he’d lost track of how many times he’d finished, kissing the entirety of John’s flesh during the time between his own climaxes and the time when he was ready to take him again, making sure he felt loved and cherished at all times.

According to John and the various noises that he sang out, Thomas was doing a perfect job at it. By the end of the night, he was exhausted and unsure if he’d be able to stand the next morning, but knew that Thomas would make sure that it wasn’t a problem. He always took such good care of him.

Thomas kissed John’s forehead and got a rag, cleaning up the mess that he’d left on his skin before cleaning whatever had landed on his own. “I have news for you. You and I are moving up north, to New York.”

“We? As in I can come with you this time?”

“Of course. As a distant cousin of mine, housing with me. I’ve been chosen by the president himself to be the secretary of state after my success in France.” He smiled proudly.

John leaned up and kissed him softly. “I’m so proud of you.. I would love to go with you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Thomas smiled.

The next day, the two were on the way to New York, John looking out of the carriage window the entire time.

“This nation had changed so much..” he sighed. He hadn’t seen any of it since the war ended, not counting Monticello.

Thomas put his hand on his waist, gently pulling him back in. “I know.. I apologize for not being able to take you around to see the nation, but you know how things are for you.”

“I know..”

When they arrived, John wasn’t surprised to see that Thomas already had a large estate. Thomas led him inside and to their room, the few slaves that he brought taking their things upstairs. John still hated it, but it seemed like he wasn’t changing Thomas’s mind. At least he was treating them much better than he had been, John refusing to please him if he didn’t. The pair spent the night wrapped around each other, but Thomas had to leave early the next morning, leaving John a note.

[I had to leave for work, but I will be home as soon as I can. Tonight, the president has asked to hold a ball for my arrival and I would want nothing more than for you to accompany me. Unfortunately, you know that to do this, you would have to disguise yourself as a woman. If you are willing, there is a trunk of gowns in the empty bedroom next to ours.]

John was more than willing to dress like a woman if it meant he could finally show himself in public as Thomas’s beloved. He went into the next room after breakfast and chose a lovely magenta gown to match Thomas’s own ensemble.

When Thomas appeared that evening, John was waiting in the living room, practicing walking like a lady. He smiled and went up behind him, putting his hands on his waist. “I’ve never seen a lovelier woman than you, my dear.”

John’s face flushed with color and he smiled, leaning against Thomas as he held him. “Thank you.”

Thomas kissed his cheek and released his grip. “I will be back in a minute. I just need to change.”

John nodded and watched him disappear up the stairs, sitting patiently and waiting for him to reappear. When he did, he took John’s hand and led him outside to the carriage, hte driver not saying a word thanks to Thomas. He drove the couple to the large ballroom where the party would take place. Of course, it was lavishly decorated, more beautiful than even the ball that John accompanied Alexander to, though it had only been as friends, of course. He sighed at the memory and got out with Thomas, holding his arm as they walked in together.

There was a roar of applause as they entered. Of course, that party was for Thomas, so John wasn’t in the least bit surprised. He simply amiled and stayed silent as Thomas addressed the crowd.

“I thank you all for the kind gesture and for your presence here tonight. I have the pleasure of showing myself here as this grand nation’s secretary of state and the greater honor of accompanying Ms Johanna Barker on this wonderful evening. I hope everyone enjoys themselves.”

They applauded again, then returned to what they were doing, dancing and drinking and eating the night away. Thomas pulled John onto the dance floor and into a waltz, one that the two had practiced to pass time years before. It felt so natural to John, even in the position of a woman. He was so comfortable in Thomas’s arms. He smiled up at him as they danced, his higher voice easily being taken for that of a lady’s.

“I cannot thank you enough for this wonderful evening, Mister Jefferson.”

“The evening has merely begun, my dove.”

The two continued dancing together until they were approached by other members of the new government, who asked for the honor of taking Johanna’s hand in dance. Thomas happily obliged and danced with their wives as they danced with his lover.

John felt a bit awkward dancing with men who weren’t his Thomas, but he hid it well, moving gracefully across the dancefloor and speaking to the men, answering their questions as vaguely as he could. There were few familiar faces to him, so there was no danger of his recognition. Even George Washington himself wasn’t able to recognize the soldier beneath hs makeup. Things were going smoothly.

Until he was approached by someone he could never forget.

Alexander Hamilton.

John had little choice but to accept his invitation for a dance, but kept his gaze anywhere besides Alexander’s face in fear that he’d be recognized.

“You look so familiar, Ms Barker. Perhaps I know you from somewhere?”

“Oh, there isn’t any way, Mr Hamilton. I am new here.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow. “Funny. I don’t recall telling you my name and I doubt that you’ve heard enough about me from Jefferson to recognize my face. Maybe you should tell me how you know me rather than lie to my face.”

John froze. How could he have made such a mistake? “This isn’t a light matter. I can’t tell you this with people around,” he muttered under his breath.

“Then I’ll take you outside for some air.”

John nodded and fanned himself, pretending to be faint from the loud atmosphere.

Alexander led him outside where they wouldn’t be seen or heard, sitting with him. “Now, would you be so kind as to letting me know your identity?”

John nodded and took Alexander’s hand. “Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my Dear Laurens, it might be in my power, by action rather than words, to convince you that I love you.”

Alexander tightened his grip on the other’s hand. “Where did you hear that? That is a line from a private letter.”

“Letters to me… I am John Laurens.”

Alexander let go and stood up, taking a few steps away. “Lies… John Laurens is dead.”

“You once stated in a letter that you hate all in this world but me. You spent many nights with me in the forest near our camp. I am John Laurens.”

“There is no way.”

John stood and grabbed Alexander’s face, looking him in the eye. “Alexander, look at me. Look at my eyes, my love.”

Alexander hesitated, but looked up at him, those unforgettable green eyes staring back at him. “Jack…” He embraced him tightly, John returning the sentiment. “What had happened to you? Where have you been all of these years?”

“With Jefferson. My father knew of our crimes and sentenced me to execution after the war. I faked my death. I wanted so badly to tell you, to tell my love, but I couldn’t risk such a thing. Jefferson took me in and has kept me hidden.”

He sighed and cupped his cheek. “I have missed you more than you can imagine. What matters is you’re here now. You can come live with me. My wife, Betsey, no doubt she will accept my request. She is a lovely, generous woman.”

John frowned and stopped Alexander by taking his hand off of his face and shaking his head. “I must decline. It is unfair to your wife to share a roof with her husband and his lover. Besides, I have told you that I am staying with Thomas Jefferson.”

“That old fool? John, why would you prefer to stay wih him when you can stay with me? After all these years, I’ve never ceased to love you, John.”

“And I you…” It  was a painful thing to realize, especially with how he had to folllow up. “But I must decline. I have found another love, one that is free to devote his time to me.”

It didn’t take any time for Alexander to figure out who he meant. “No… It is one thing for you to say that you cannot stay with me, it is another to say that you can’t because you’ve grown affections for that bastard of a man.”

“Alexander-”

“No. I have waited all of these years and waited to once again love you without even knowing that you lived and you go off with him? Do you know what he is, John? He is a slave owner. He believes that those people should be owned and put to work merely because of the color of their skin, because they were bought and stolen.”

“I know.. But he is a changed man from when I first met him. He has learned to treat them as equals, as people. I have shown him. He treats them well, as if they were workers.”

“As if. Because to him, they’re not.”

“That isn’t true and it’s even farther from the point. I love him, Alexander. I am a grown man and I do not need your permission to love.”

Alexander raised his hand and slapped John across the face, making him stumble. John felt tears sting his eyes from the pain, but stood back up anyways.

“I still love you, Alexander. But I love him more.”

“Please, don’t hurt me like this..”

“I’m sorry.”

Alexander grabbed John and slammed his back into the wall, roughly kissing him. John could feel what he felt, the pain that this brought him and the longing he felt for John. He would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t feel the same way, but he had Thomas now. He had..

He had Alexander back…

No. He had Thomas. He pushed Alexander off and walked away, his arm being grabbed before he got far. When he turned, he saw that it wasn’t Alexander this time, but Thomas.

“So, this is why you wanted to come to New York? To see him?”

“Thomas, I-”

“Not another word. Wait in the carriage.” He let him go and John frowned, doing as Thomas said. He tried to explain himself on the way home, but Thomas wouldn’t allow it. When they got home, he pulled him upstairs and shut the bedroom door behind them, warning against disturbing them. “Explain. I saw you kissing Hamilton. Explain your way out of that.”

“He kissed me! I promise.” He sighed. “Alexander was my lover before I met you… He recognized me and took me aside to talk, but I had no intentions of breaking my loyalty to you. He attacked me. I don’t want him. I only want you.”

Thomas’s expression softened and he sighed, pulling John into a warm embrace. “I apologize. I should’ve given you a chance to explain.”

“It’s okay. Thomas, are you jealous of Alexander?”

“How could I not be? He had his hands all over your body.”

“Don’t be.” John smiled up at Thomas. “Don’t be. As I’ve said many times, I am yours. Not only my body, but my heart as well. I am yours.”

Thomas smiled and softly kissed his love. “You are mine. Thank you.” He gently pushed him onto the bed. “Now, we may have left the ball, but we can continue our own dance right here.”

“I would love nothing more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone interested in commissioning me for one shots can email me at slashgashotaku@gmail.com for details.


End file.
